


dress up doll

by mechup



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Face Slapping, Gender Play, Other, Praise Kink, basically Missy puts makeup on the Doctor & that's it that's the fic, kinda?? like it would be considered that if they were humans, no one read this thanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26908195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechup/pseuds/mechup
Summary: He’s like a doll, for her to dress up and play with and control however she likes.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Missy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	dress up doll

He’s like a doll, for her to dress up and play with and control however she likes. 

She had instructed him not to move when they began so she has to manipulate his limbs, guiding him to sit down beside her. It’s more exciting than it should be, for him, and he can only watch as she picks up a tube of lipstick from the table in front of them. 

“This shade of red, I think,” she says — to herself, because he knows she doesn’t care about any opinions he might have on this right now — as she considers the product in her hand. He’s not entirely sure if she’s genuinely trying to decide what color to use on him; he had assumed she’d already had it all picked out, but he can never be sure when it comes to her. 

She seems to come to the conclusion that this color will indeed work, and she begins to open it. She places the cap on the table and twists the bottom of the lipstick to get it to a height she can work with, then leans in.

The first press of the lipstick against his top lip doesn’t feel odd like he thought it would. Missy brings up her other hand to hold his jaw, trying to get the best angle and leverage possible. He’s very aware of how gentle her touch is and he wants to feel more than just the ghosts of her fingertips but he obediently sits there without complaint while she applies his makeup.

He doesn’t think he’d find it quite so difficult to remain still if she hadn’t told him he had to, but he finds himself suppressing the urge to squirm. Her undivided attention on him, especially for _this_ , is already almost too much. She glides the lipstick across his mouth, as if she’s oblivious to the growing restless vibration beneath his skin. 

“There!” she says once she’s covered the entire area. She picks the handheld mirror up off the table and holds it up for him to see. “Perfect.”

He barely recognizes himself, even though all she’s done so far are his lips; it isn’t overly bright but it still is a sharp contrast from his pale complexion. His face flushes as he meets his own eyes and he nods in agreement because he knows it’s not actually up to him. 

He immediately remembers he’s not meant to move, but it’s too late.

The slap comes as a shock that leaves him gasping, his cheek already stinging from the impact. He wants to raise his hand to his face, soothe the blossoming pain, but he knows if he moves again it’ll only make things worse for him. 

“I thought I told you to stay still.” She tuts, but he’s well aware she had been _waiting_ the entire time for him to mess up. _Sorry_ , he wants to say, but he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to risk making her angry in case she considers that as moving. “I _don’t_ want to say it again. You’ll do what I ask, won’t you? You’ll obey and let me paint you how I want?”

He almost goes to nod again but this time he catches himself, and she smiles in a way that makes him feel like an animal being hunted. 

“That’s a good girl,” she says, and picks up the mascara. 

He can’t help the whimper that escapes him at the thought of having to sit through more but she merely shushes him, already focusing on applying the makeup to his eyes. Her hand rests on his jaw again but it _isn’t enough_ , he needs more than just her feather light touch. 

His cheeks burn even redder at the humiliation of reacting like _this_ to something as simple as her applying his makeup for him. She doesn’t react to his obvious desire, only paying attention to the task at hand even though there’s no way she hasn’t noticed. 

He’s trembling by the time she’s finished and she lifts up the mirror again to allow him to see. He looks absolutely wrecked even though she’s barely done anything to him, breathing heavily and body strained from not kissing her or touching her or himself or doing _something_ to release the tension.

She presses her fingers to his lips and his breath hitches in suspense, waiting for what she’ll do next. 

“Aren’t you pretty,” she coos, her thumb running across his bottom lip before she presses just a bit harder and drags her finger down so it smears across his skin. “I just want to _ruin_ you. You’re much too gorgeous to be kept in one piece, I want to break you until there’s nothing to break anymore. Then I’ll put you back together so I can do it all over again.”

_Please_ forms in the back of his throat and she takes pity on him before he can say it, parting his mouth with her pointer and middle fingers and slipping them inside. He doesn’t suck or even run his tongue along them like he desperately wants to, and she rewards him by adding her ring finger. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” she asks, though she very well knows the answer. His response is a muffled moan and she pretends to think about it. “Well, I suppose you have been good for me...”

She pushes her fingers back far enough for him to gag for a few seconds before she relents, her free hand making its way to where he’s been silently begging for it this whole time. He makes a choked off sound and it takes everything in it to stay exactly where he is and not arch up into her hand. She doesn’t waste any time to give him an unrelenting rhythm, knowing it won’t be long at all before he’s pushed over the edge. 

She presses her fingers down onto his tongue and that’s all it takes for him to cry out, his eyes shutting as he gives into the waves of pleasure. She extracts her hand from his mouth and her other one moves to the back of his head to help him lean against her. 

“I’ll get to you in just a moment. When I can think again,” he mumbles. In the meantime, he buries his face in her shoulder and kisses a spot by her neck, a thank you of sorts. 

**Author's Note:**

> idk why i ended up writing this whole thing @ 1am but here i am


End file.
